


Bequest (Remix of "Inheritance")

by kelly_chambliss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Relationships, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Community: femslash_remix, F/F, Femslash, M/M, POV Female Character, Portraits, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3264131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelly_chambliss/pseuds/kelly_chambliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walburga Black has left behind more than just a grim old house and a shrieking portrait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bequest (Remix of "Inheritance")

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magnetic_pole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetic_pole/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Inheritance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/268348) by [magnetic_pole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetic_pole/pseuds/magnetic_pole). 



> This story was written for the 2015 Femslash_Remix fest on LJ (Harry Potter fandom).
> 
> Many thank-yous are called for: to Magnetic Pole, for offering her fine stories to be remixed; to Woldy, for running the fun fest; and to Lash Larue and Boadicea12, my stalwart and helpful betas.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

1.

Sirius drank for the burn, for the flame of firewhisky in his throat and in his stomach. He took swallow after swallow after swallow, not to get drunk (no matter what Lupin might think) but to keep the fire hot and alive.

Because as long as he could convince himself that the blaze in his gut came from liquor, it didn't have to come from the things that were happening in Grimmauld Place -- his own fucking house, however much he hated it. Things that he was powerless to stop.

If it was about whisky, the burn didn't have to be about the rage he felt watching Snivellus Scumfuck Snape sit at Sirius's table, in Sirius's drawing room, pretending to care about the safety of Sirius's godson. It didn't have to be about enemies and betrayals and death and loss.

It didn't have to be about the way Snape acted like he owned Remus.

And it didn't have to be about the way Remus's face lit still lit up at the sight of that greasy-haired Slytherin traitor.

_1._

_Minerva drank sparingly; over-indulgence was not something that appealed to her, whether in alcohol or food or the sort of emotional excess that seemed to affect half the members of the Order of the Phoenix. Between Alastor's paranoia and Severus's close-held resentments and Sirius's endless melodramatic gloom, it's a wonder they ever got anything done._

_Tonight, though, she definitely needed a stiff firewhisky. Seeing Walburga again after all these years, seeing her as she had been in their youth, so vibrant and full of love and promise. . .well, as Minerva had told Remus, it had unnerved her._

_People always told you that time healed loss, but it didn't, never fully. Oh, one went on, of course one did, and learnt to live and love again, to enjoy life again. But the wound of loss never really closed; it merely scarred over._

_The encounter with Walburga's portrait at Grimmauld Place had torn those scars open again, had undone all the careful work of ritual and mourning, and Minerva felt as raw as she had in her first sorrow after she'd ended their affair, as undone as she had felt in those first painful months after Walburga's death._

_So, yes, a glass (or maybe two) of Ogden's was quite justified, and she was halfway through the first one when Rolanda came in, bringing the fresh biting air of the Quidditch pitch with her._

_Ro took one look at the open bottle -- on a school night, no less -- and immediately came over to wrap her strong arms around Minerva's shoulders. "What's wrong, love?"_

_Minerva felt some of the rawness begin to ease. "Nothing serious, nothing to do with the Order or You-Know-Who," she said. She put her glass on the table and stood to deepen the embrace._

_"I'll tell you all about it tomorrow," she said, relishing the feel of Rolanda's soft, spiky hair against her cheek. "Tonight, I just want. . ."_

_"To go to bed with me?" said Ro. She drew Minerva's head down for a kiss, and the thoughts of Grimmauld Place slid away._

_"Yes," Minerva said as they paused for air. "Yes, just that."_

2.

In the empty evenings, when the heavy silence of the house crushed his very lungs and made breathing impossible, Sirius would deliberately open the curtains that kept his mother's portrait quiet and would let the hag scream her venom to his face. He took comfort in the sight of her yellowed skin, her rolling, mad eyes and wild hair, her obscenely-twisted mouth spewing hatred and painted spittle in equal measure.

"BLOOD TRAITOR! DIRTY MUDBLOOD LOVER! BRINGING DISHONOUR TO THE NAME OF BLACK!"

After all, she wasn't wrong. He hated all that "blood" crap, so if that made him a "traitor," then a traitor was what he was. And he was proud to dishonour the dishonourable name of Black. 

"DISGRACE! ABOMINATION! DISGUSTING PIECE OF FILTH!"

Sometimes he thought she wasn't wrong about that, either.

_2._

_For quite a while, Minerva hadn't recognised the shrieking, grey-haired old madwoman in the portrait as Walburga Black. How could she have? Walburga had never been bent and deformed, wrinkled and shriveled; she'd been only sixty when she died, just middle-aged for a witch, and her hair, like Minerva's own, had remained dark all her life._

_It was only as Minerva stood next to Remus Lupin in the entry hall of Grimmauld Place, watching the portrait shimmer and change, that she understood who the old woman was: not the physical Walburga, but the essence of the person she'd eventually become._

_Or at least, the person she'd become in Sirius's view. To him, looking at his mother always with a child's eyes, she'd been a hideous caricature, unloving and uncaring, a literal version of that monster-under-the-bed that symbolized a child's greatest fear: the loss of a parent's love and approval. Sirius had suffered that loss; no wonder he saw his mother as that monster in the flesh._

_But not everyone had been Walburga's child._

_Some people had been her lovers._

_The portrait stopped changing at last, and it was young Walburga who stood there, thin and dark-eyed. She wore her customary expression of impatience with an imperfect world, but her face shifted when she looked out of her frame and saw who stood before her._

_"Minerva," she said, her voice that same liquid silk that had always made Minerva's limbs weak. Walburga knelt down, velvet robes pooling at the bottom of the frame, and stretched out her hand. "Minerva."_

_Minerva felt her own hand lift almost of its own volition, her palm fitting against Walburga's as if charmed there; she could almost feel the warmth of her lover's skin. She was certain that her face bore the same look of incredulity and desire that Walburga's wore; for a fleeting moment, she wondered what Remus must be thinking._

_Then the damp, musty entryway faded from her mind, all awareness of Remus disappeared, and Minerva was lost._

_She and Walburga stood silently, drinking in the sight of each other, and Minerva let her fancy pretend that the portrait frame was merely a window behind which her real lover stood._

_"You shouldn't have left me," Walburga said at last. "I was gutted, you know that."_

_"As was I," Minerva said. "But we couldn't go on, Wanda,_ you _know that. We just thought too differently about the world, you and I. We'd have ended up hating one another."_

_"You took another lover after you left me."_

_"Yes, I did."_

_"I was never jealous of Orion's mistresses, you know. Only of yours." Walburga touched the canvas as if stoking Minerva's face, and again, Minerva could almost feel the caress._

_"I had none, when we were together," she said. It was an old argument between them._

_"Hmmmm. Promise me you will visit me again," Walburga commanded. "Here in Grimmauld Place. I can no longer bear it on my own. My ungrateful son has given my home to those people who are fighting to destroy the pure-blood world."_

_"But I'm one of those people, Wanda."_

_Walburga smiled. "Yes, well. I rely on you to avenge my Regulus." She put her fingers to her lips and then touched the kiss to the canvas. "You should go now, my love. I think the werewolf said something about tea."_

3\. 

"Come here. Please. I want to show you something." 

Typical Remus, Sirius thought -- always making even his orders sound like gentle requests. He just stood there, patiently, until Sirius finally followed him down the stairs, cursing his own weakness. He'd never been able to say "no" to Moony, and he couldn't do it now. Remus had been willing to believe that Sirius had betrayed James and Lily; he'd been willing to go from Sirius's bed into Snape's. And still Sirius couldn't say no. What a pathetic wanker he was.

They reached the entry hall, and Sirius braced himself for a shriek from the damned hag's portrait. 

Except it wasn't the hag. The woman in the portrait was still his mother, but younger, closer to the way she'd looked when he was a boy, with all the elegance and haughty pure-blood disdain that had always made Sirius feel stupid and wrong no matter how well he behaved.

Until it had made him angry. Until the mere sight of her curling lip and lifted nose had sent him swaggering into every rebellion he (and later he and James Potter) could invent. Until he'd gained the strength to throw off the yoke of the hated House of Black forever.

Or so he'd thought. Yet here he still was, basically a prisoner in Grimmauld Place, useless except as the object of Snape's sneers and Remus's ill-concealed pity. And now even his mother's portrait, which had finally showed Remus and the others the truth about the atmosphere Sirius had lived in as a boy. . .now her mask of civility had been restored somehow, and people were going to start judging Sirius again, refusing to believe his version of her. He knew it, he could feel it.

"She was beautiful," Remus said, looking at the portrait. "She looks quite a bit like you."

Damn, it was starting already. "She was never that beautiful," Sirius snapped. Nor had she been, not like this. She'd been striking, he supposed, with her glossy dark hair and dark eyes and thin, mobile features. But inside, she'd been that raving, howling hag, and nothing like him at all.

Nothing.

"Who got her to change?" he asked.

"Minerva."

Minerva? Sirius vaguely took in Remus's explanation of how a person's physical contact with the portrait caused it to become that person's version of Walburga, but he was only half-listening. Minerva McGonagall had known his mother? And had seen her as lovely and sad-faced? McGonagall, who opposed pure-blood prejudice and "superiority" with the same stern resolve she brought to her classroom and her Hogwarts House. . .she could look at one of the biggest pure-blood bigots who'd ever lived and find her beautiful?

"There's a story there, I imagine," he said to Remus, who nodded.

"You should ask her."

_3._

_The next time Minerva arrived at Grimmauld Place for an Order meeting, the curtains over the portrait were carefully closed. Not even Tonks's crashing into the coat stand caused an uproar, from which Minerva concluded that Walburga must still be in her younger form; Sirius apparently had not changed her back._

_The rational part of Minerva was quite relieved by the peace and quiet. The shrieking harpy had been bad enough, but Minerva could only imagine the questions and talk that would result if Order members saw the way the hag had changed. Severus would have a sarcastic field day, Alastor would immediately start checking them all for curses, and Albus would fix her with far too knowing an eye._

_But another part of her wanted to Stupefy every single one of them into comas and spend just more night with her old lover._

_A fantasy, of course, and a foolish one. Minerva shook her head and turned her attention to the meeting._

_As he had done last time, Severus contrived to sit next to Remus, sometimes resting his hand casually on Remus's shoulder or arm, and Minerva watched as Sirius was driven nearly distracted by jealousy. He controlled himself well enough during the actual discussion, but as everyone filed out at the end of the meeting, Sirius managed to shove Severus against the wall; Minerva could see his wand sticking into Severus's side._

_"Leave Remus alone, you stinking prick," he hissed. "He doesn't want you fucking touching him."_

_Severus smirked. "Jealous, are you, cur?" he said. "Be careful, or you'll end up a ranting lunatic like your mad bitch of a dead mother."_

_Sirius's answering snarl was rabid, and Minerva found herself suddenly furious._

_"Gentlemen," she snapped, letting them see that her hand was on her wand, "and yes, I am using that term ironically. Stop this adolescent nonsense at once, or I promise you, you'll be reckoning with a mad bitch of a living professor."_

_They stepped apart immediately, and a hint of a smile quirked Severus's lips. "My apologies, Minerva," he said. "You're right," with a side-long glance at Sirius, "this is asinine."_

_For a moment, Sirius looked as if he might ignore Minerva and hex Severus anyway; then he jammed his wand into his sleeve and elbowed his way through the departing throng. The front door slammed a few seconds later._

_On the other hand, Minerva thought, there was much to be said for the absence of jealous old lovers in one's life._

4\. 

Sirius arranged to meet Minerva in an anonymous Muggle pub somewhere in suburban Kent; he figured that not even Warden Dumbledore could object to his leaving that Azkaban of a house occasionally. He used a glamour, just to be safe, but Minerva had no trouble picking him out. Maybe it was the brocade waistcoat.

"Mr White," she said with a small smile, sitting down opposite him. She wore Muggle garb, sensible flat shoes and a belted coat. She hadn't bothered with a glamour, but had merely removed her glasses and softened her usual tight black bun into a looser knot at her neck. The effect was to render her nearly unrecognisable.

"Um, right, thanks for coming," Sirius said, annoyed with himself for stammering. This one-on-one meeting outside the Order had seemed like a good idea when he'd had it, but now he found himself unsure what to say. He settled on drink.

"Here, let me get a round. What will you have?" 

"Tonic water, if you please," she replied, letting him know that she considered this a professional meeting. She never drank while working. Well, fine; it was probably best if they both kept some distance.

When he returned from the bar with her tonic and his double whisky, she'd taken off her coat, revealing a dark blue Muggle dress with an opened collar. A thin gold chain lay against her throat. Sirius forced himself not to stare; he didn't think he'd ever before seen her in something that wasn't high-necked.

She cast a surreptitious _Muffliato_ before saying, "Sirius, if this is about Severus being part of the Order. . ."

"No! No, that's not it. I mean, I think it's a mistake to have him there, you know I do -- "

"Indeed," she interrupted wryly. "You inform us of that fact at every meeting."

"Yes, well. . ." Sirius controlled himself with an effort. They weren't here to talk about that poisonous snake. "I wanted to ask you about my mother's portrait."

Minerva's expression didn't really change, but without her spectacles, Sirius could see her eyes turn wary. She remained silent, waiting for him to continue. 

"I didn't know you knew her," he said finally.

"We were at Hogwarts together. Different Houses, of course."

Yeah, that statement was about as "of course" as you could get. He waited, but she said nothing further; he should have known she'd be too good a politician to answer questions she hadn't been asked. Fine; he'd get to the point.

"You obviously thought well of her, if your version of her portrait is anything to go by. And I find that surprising, frankly, considering her views on blood purity and the like."

Minerva sighed. "You've spoken to Remus about this?"

"He told me to talk to you."

She took a sip of her tonic water; Sirius recognised a stalling tactic when he saw it. He downed his whisky in a gulp, relishing the burn. As he'd expected, Minerva seized the opportunity for further delay.

"Another round, I think," she said, and headed off towards the bar. When she returned, she carried two glasses: a double whisky for Sirius -- and one for herself.

"I will tell you what I told Remus," she said, taking her seat again. "Your mother and I fell in love when we were in our sixth year at Hogwarts. We knew there was no question of our having an open relationship, times and families being what they were, and in any case, your mother wanted children. I'm sure I needn't tell you what a premium she placed on making a good pure-blood marriage and producing suitable offspring."

"No, of course she would have wanted that," said Sirius slowly, trying to make some sort of sense of this. His mother and Minerva? In love? "So she got married. . ."

"Yes, about a year after we left Hogwarts."

"And you and she. . .?"

"Continued as before, albeit even more discreetly."

"But. . .I mean. . .while she and my father. . ." Sirius could hear just what a berk he sounded like, but he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around this. Uptight Minerva McGonagall had spent years in an illicit sexual affair with a married woman? His own mother? Half-blooded Minerva McGonagall and his obsessive pure-blood mother, the same one who had blasted relatives out of the family tree for similar "violations" of blood. . .It made no sense.

"Oh, Sirius, for heaven's sake. Don't sit there looking like an outraged Victorian papa. You have to know that's how most arranged pure-blood marriages worked. One's official procreative relationship never precluded emotional and sexual commitments elsewhere."

Sirius felt himself start to grin. "So you were my mum's bit on the side?"

She didn't rise to this bait, but merely fixed him with the sort of gaze that could still make his insides quail a little, even after all these years. "We loved each other, and like many people before and since, we mistakenly thought that was enough. It proved not to be so. As the years passed, and she seemed unable to have children, she grew more and more committed to the notion of 'blood-purity,' and I grew less and less able to live comfortably in a world in which such things mattered."

"So you broke up?"

"I ended things, yes. A year or so after Regulus was born." 

So they'd still been having their affair even when he was a kid? This was. . .this was something he'd have to think about later, Sirius decided. It was too mind-blowing to deal with now.

He turned to her earlier comment. "You say she didn't think she could have children? I didn't know that. I mean, she had us, didn't she?"

"Only after years of trying, years of taking endless potions and seeing endless healers, both legitimate ones and quacks. Something finally worked, just after she'd completely given up. Did you never wonder why she and your father were married for almost fifteen years before you were born?"

Sirius shrugged. "No, I never really thought about it. I suppose I just assumed she didn't really want kids."

"Oh, my dear, she wanted you desperately." Minerva's expression softened, and she smiled, though not for a minute did Sirius think she was smiling at him. "You should have seen how thrilled she was when she found out she finally was pregnant. And then when you were born. . .she loved you beyond words."

No way could Sirius let that one pass. "Don't kid yourself, okay? She never gave a sodding damn about me."

_4._

_"She never gave a sodding damn about me."_

_The note of whining adolescent self-pity was so strong that Minerva nearly told Sirius sharply that it was time for him to grow up._

_But she stopped herself. If Walburga's obsession with "blood purity" had been so toxic that it had nearly broken her lover, how must it have affected her son? He'd been badly done by even before his years of wrongful imprisonment in Azkaban; Minerva had no right to judge him._

_"I know things fell apart between you and your mother, Sirius," she said. "I'm not excusing her. She was difficult, I know that very well. But she did love you. Very much. It almost destroyed her when you left. She came to me -- the only time I ever saw her after we parted -- to beg me, as your Head of House, to talk you into coming home. You can imagine how hard that was for her to do; you know how proud she was. She was fairly distracted with grief."_

_"She blasted my fucking name off the fucking family tree," Sirius all but shouted. "Er, sorry."_

_Minerva waved away the apology; this was no time for trifles. "Never mind; I've heard the word before. As I say, I'm not excusing her. But I do think that part of her anger was directed at herself. I'm convinced she recognised how much she herself, and your father, were to blame for your departure."_

_Sirius snorted, which was only to be expected. Of course he was not about to give up twenty years' worth of resentment and bitterness because of a single speech from her. But she had spoken what she believed to be the truth._

_He changed the subject, and Minerva could hardly blame him -- though once she heard his questions, she rather wished he'd chosen a different topic._

_"So what did you see in her? What was the attraction? I can't imagine there was ever a time when she didn't trumpet the importance of blood purity."_

_Minerva sipped her whisky to give herself a moment to think. She needed to choose her words carefully, so that she could make Sirius understand what Walburga had been like as a girl, a young woman: bright and witty and full of a daring sense of fun that the usually-dutiful (if hot-tempered) Minerva had found very attractive._

_"She always had a high opinion of her family and their place in the wizarding world, yes," she said finally. "But at school, one could put that sort of thing into the background. Concerns about blood status were never absent, of course, but my schooldays, and your mother's, were similar to what I imagine yours were: we paid more attention to Quidditch and House points and, oh, I don't know. . .things like who was the smoothest dancer. When it came to the state of the world, we worried about Grindelwald. He scared the pure-blood families, too, because he cared more about power than blood. It was magical strength that mattered to Grindelwald, and without it, a pure-blood was no safer a Muggle. Your mother was as opposed to Grindelwald as I was."_

_"She was?" Sirius was sceptical._

_"Very much so. For different reasons: her family saw Grindelwald as a threat to pure-blood superiority, while to me, he was a threat to the liberty of everyone. I didn't clearly see the difference then, I suppose; I just saw us both as part of the same cause. She was very passionate."_

_"I'll bet," said Sirius._

_Walburga had enthralled Minerva -- the way she'd stood up at their student meetings, her back ramrod-straight, her clear voice ringing across the main courtyard as she spelled out the dangers that Grindewald represented and urged students to join in the fight. Her eyes had sparkled, and little tendrils of hair had curled around her face in the damp air, and when, later, she had kissed Minerva outside Greenhouse Three, Minerva had never wanted to stop._

_But Sirius didn't need to know any of this._

_He was staring at his empty whisky glass, his face twisted into a pensive frown that he probably would not wish to know was very like his mother's, his glamour notwithstanding. "So you didn't really know what she was like?" he said. "Didn't know everything she believed?"_

_"Eventually I knew, yes. It's why we parted. And I can't say that I had no inkling when we were younger. But, Sirius. . ." Minerva put her hand on his arm, to force him to look at her. This was important. "Sometimes when we love someone very much, we convince ourselves that we can change them. That they will become someone they are not, for our sake. That with the sheer strength of our feeling, we can compel them to see the world the way we see it. It's love and it's fantasy and it's ego, all mixed together, and it never works. It never works. Do you understand me? Love people as they are, or let them go."_

_He looked startled; she supposed she'd never spoken to him in this way before, about personal things, as an equal._

_"Are you talking about Remus?" he asked._

_"About Remus. About you. About Severus. Remus and Severus had a romantic relationship at one point; you cannot change that. But for whatever reasons, they have parted. As your mother and I parted. The present changes. The past cannot."_

_"But you moved on?"_

_"Yes. I moved on."_

_Minerva finished her whisky and stood; she'd said all she intended to say about her relationship with Walburga. But she had one final warning for Sirius, the same she'd given Remus, and she offered it to him as she belted her Muggle coat._

_"Don't let history repeat itself."_

5.

Going out had been a mistake, Sirius thought once he got back to Grimmauld Place. The silence and dust and damp seemed even more oppressive after a few hours of freedom. And now he also had to deal with the fact that his Head of House and his own _mother_ had spent years shagging each other's brains out. Merlin, could things get much worse?

If that damned Dumbledore would only give him something to _do_. It wasn't as if there weren't tasks galore; Dumbledore certainly had all the rest of the Order running hither and yon. Like Remus -- he'd bolted his breakfast this morning, muttered something about recruitment, and headed out. 

Sirius just flat out didn't believe Dumbledore's claims that they couldn't risk having Sirius seen in public. Were they wizards or not? Wasn't that what glamours and invisibility cloaks were for -- going out without being recognised?

No, Dumbledore didn't fucking trust him, that was the long and short of it, and apparently none of the rest of the Order did, either. Not even Remus.

Well, fuck it. Sod them all. If they thought he was a useless waste of flesh, he might as well be one. There were some bottles of firewhisky in the kitchen; he wouldn't even need a glass.

It was an hour or so later when Sirius stumbled back up the kitchen stairs, an unopened bottle of Ogden's clutched in his hand. It was the last one; he'd have to send Kreacher out. . .

"Kreacher!" he bellowed. "Where the hell are you?"

He was greeted once more with nothing but silence, and all at once, he could stand it no longer. He needed voices, sound, _something_. . . 

Then he saw the curtain. Of course! The old hag! She wouldn't be screaming now, she'd be Minerva's impossible romantic version of herself. . .he could tell her what he thought of her at last. . .

He flung open the curtains.

Walburga was standing quietly in her frame, and her expression when she saw him was unreadable.

"Sirius," she said, and he felt as if a Bludger had hit him in the stomach. It was the voice she'd used when she was going to try to "reason" with him, to try to convince him yet again to do his "duty as a Black," to be the person he'd rather die than be, even if it meant never being the son she could love. 

"Mrs Black."

"You have your revenge, I see."

"What, you mean this?" Sirius shook the bottle of firewhisky in her face and felt himself stumble a little. "Whisky revenge? I'm staggering around your precious House of Black like the drunk I am, is that it?"

The elegant eyebrows lifted in something like amusement. "Hardly. It is only yourself that you dishonour with too much drink. No, I speak of the fact that you have filled the family home with half-breeds and Mudbloods and have forced me to watch as they plot to destroy the wizarding world."

The angry buzzing in Sirius's head was so loud that for a moment, he thought it must be one of the doxies that still infested some of the wall hangings. But it was only his own rage.

"Yeah?" he snarled. "Well, you didn't seem too worried about half-bloods when you were fucking Minerva McGonagall."

She recoiled, her painted eyes widening and her face blanching, a testament to the quality of the portrait; Blacks hired only the best artists, of course. Then she visibly pulled herself together and spat, "You understand nothing about it!"

"Oh, I understand, all right. You pure-blood hypocrites get to do anything you want, and no one else can question you. You can bleat about the importance of blood and family and then run off and screw your mistress."

"Say whatever you please about me, but you will speak of Minerva with the respect she deserves!"

Sirius blinked. This was a switch -- his mother, putting someone else's feelings before her own? Unprecedented.

"You're right," he said. "I do respect Minerva, though I can't say I think to much of her choice of partner."

His mother ignored this. "You know nothing about it," she said again. "About what we were to each other. You have never understood about blood, Sirius. It keeps our world stable. As long as the foundation of a strong, pure bloodline is in place, the edifice we build upon that structure -- the social institutions, the personal relationships -- can allow some room for variation. For love between a half-blood and a Black, for example. "

"Did you love her? Really?"

Walburga smiled. She looked lovely, and for a second Sirius was four years old again, when his mother had been the most beautiful and important person in the world.

"I did," she said. "And do. And shall."

She leant forward urgently. "Don't you see, Sirius? It was pure-blood superiority that made our love possible. Without pure-bloods in charge, without that foundation, Minerva and I would have been enemies, in competition, at odds. But because people knew their place then, we could come together without fear. Do you not see how it works?"

Sirius stared at her, at her intense dark eyes, at her hands clasped before her, almost in supplication. For once, he didn't think she was being manipulative or worried only about her own power and position. She believed this bullshit. Actually believed it. It had cost her her lover, her sons, her life. And still she believed.

The room swayed a bit, and Sirius put a steadying hand on the bannister. Merlin, he needed a drink.

"Yeah," he said. "I see exactly how it works. And so did Minerva -- that's why she left you. That's why she's in the Order. And why I am. Because we're not going to let history repeat itself."

His mother frowned, and her expression reminded Sirius of someone; he couldn't think who. 

"I don't understand," she said.

"I know. Good-bye, mother."

He drew the curtains, which slid closed easily, and went to wait for Remus to come home. They were going to have a lot to talk about.

_5._

_Rolanda was in their sitting room when Minerva returned to Hogwarts. The fire was blazing, and tea and a plate of ginger newts sat waiting on a table._

_Ro watched as Minerva removed her coat; then she warmed the teapot with a tap of her wand and patted the sofa next to her. "Sit," she said, "and tell me all about the super-secret meeting with the most-wanted man in the wizarding world. You know the only excitement I get is living vicariously through your adventures."_

_She was grinning, and Minerva laughed, feeling some of the tension drain from her shoulders. "Don't be ridiculous. But it's true I've been rather neglecting you lately; I promise we will go to London or Edinburgh very soon, just the two of us, and have a night on the town."_

_"I'll hold you to that; it sounds divine." Then Ro sobered. "But don't you start feeling guilty about me. Seriously, Min. You're doing important work, and I understand that. I don't mind, honestly. I'm just glad you're home now, and we can finally have a good natter."_

_"All right. But first, let me get out of these Muggle clothes. . ."_

_Ro grinned again and shook her head. "No, I plan to take care of that process myself. Later. Sit down, will you? I like to look at you in that dress. Sometimes I get tired of all those long witches' robes, you know? What's the matter with a woman showing a little leg now and then? Not to mention her collar bones." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Minerva had to smile._

_"Very well," she said, sitting on the sofa. It_ did _feel good to relax with Rolanda's arm around her and the scent of a good, strong Assam rising from her teacup. She took a few restorative sips as Ro started on the newts._

_"So," Ro said, licking crumbs from her fingers, "what did our Mr White-of-the-oh-so-clever-alias want? To complain about Snape again?"_

_"No. He wanted to talk about his mother. And me."_

_"Ah." Ro leant back. "I take it he saw the portrait, then?"_

_"Yes."_

_"And what did you tell him?"_

_"The whole story." Ro lifted her eyebrows, and Minerva amended, "Well, the main outlines of it. That Walburga and I had been lovers both before and after her marriage, and that eventually I ended it. Sirius is a grown man now; there's no point in concealing facts from him."_

_"No, of course not. How did he take it?"_

_"Well enough. I suspect he'd already guessed some of it. He did have a moment of shock, though -- probably letting himself imagine all sorts of salacious scenarios."_

_"Pervert," Rolanda laughed. "But yeah, it always does take some getting used to, the notion of your parents having sex. Or your teachers. And if it's your teacher having sex with your parents. . .well, no wonder his mind took off like a Firebolt."_

_"Excuse me. 'Parent' singular, if you please," Minerva corrected, trying to look stern. "I had no interest in Orion."_

_"Apparently neither did his wife," said Ro, cackling at her own wit. She lifted her wand to refresh the flames, and then took up her tea._

_"Will you talk to the portrait again?" she asked after a time, her voice carefully free of inflection._

_"No, I don't think so." Minerva had made up her mind. "I'm glad I got to see her once more, to settle things between us a bit. But that part of my life is over, and I'm not sorry."_

_Rolanda turned to look at her. "I wouldn't mind," she said. "If you wanted to see her, I mean. I'm not jealous, you know."_

_"I know that." And she did; Ro's lack of jealousy was one of her many attractive qualities. "But no, I have no need to see her again."_

_"Right, then," said Ro, setting her empty teacup on the table and putting her arm back around Minerva's shoulder. "Did you say anything to Sirius about Remus?"_

_"I had planned to be indirect," Minerva replied, "but subtlety is often wasted on Mr Black."_

_Rolanda laughed. Then she asked more questions and listened and nodded and eventually summoned more tea. "We need something to put the brandy in," she said, suiting action to word._

_"It's time for brandy, is it?" asked Minerva, amused._

_"More than," said Rolanda, lifting her cup in a toast. "To our evening in Edinburgh."_

_"Our evening in Edinburgh," Minerva echoed, touching her own cup to Ro's. "Let's make it tomorrow."_

_They drank slowly, sitting together on the sofa as the night drew softly in, and the stars began to shine, and in front of them, their fire burned bright._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bequest [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11175210) by [codeswitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/codeswitch/pseuds/codeswitch)




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